Call from a bed of pain. I must go and will,
Though all the world cry shame on my dishonour;
And with me I will take my love, my bride,
To glad the old man's eyes. My mind is fixed;
I cannot stay, I cannot rest, away
From Bosphorus. (Summons Messenger) Go, call the Lady Gycia.
(Resumes) Ay, and my oath, I had forgotten it.
I cannot bear to think what pitiless plot
Lysimachus has woven for the feast.
What it may be I know not, but I fear